One True Love (6 page)

“You’re real,” he said finally. “You’re barely wearing makeup, and I’d bet your hair is actually blond. Unbelievable.”

Maggie swallowed uncomfortably under his close perusal.”I better go.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stare. I’m Serena’s neighbor. My name is Jeremy. Jeremy Hunt.” He extended his hand, and Maggie reluctantly took it. “I’m a writer, and I guess I tend to analyze people a little more than I should.”

“It’s all right,” she said, as she extricated her hand from his. “My hair is blond.” Why on earth had she told him that?

He smiled again. “If you stay in L.A.” maybe we’ll see each other around.”

My God, the man was actually looking at her like a woman, a real, live woman, not someone’s mother, not someone’s wife, but a sexual woman. Maggie was tempted to turn around and see if there was someone standing behind her. She hadn’t had a man flirt with her in years. She didn’t have a clue how to respond.

“I’m–I’m not staying,” she said.

“Too bad. It’s tough to find real in this town. Figures you’d be leaving. Just my bad luck.”

“I’m sure there are lots of real people in Los Angeles. Maybe you’re not looking in the right place.”

“Maybe not. Are you sure you’re a friend of Serena’s?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” She couldn’t look him in the eye.

He’d see right through her.

“You seem different.”

“Don’t you have any friends that are different from yourself?”

“Touché.”

“Well, thanks for telling me where Serena is. I better go find her.”

He tipped his head. “Have a nice day.”

“You too.” She took a few steps down the path, then heard him call after her.

“Hey, you never told me your name.”

She paused and glanced over her shoulder. “I know.”

“I’m a writer,” he warned with another one of his dazzling smiles.

“I’ll just make one up for you.”“I’ve always been partial to Crystal. It sounds expensive, delicate, strong, and pretty.”

“Then I’ll call you Crystal, because it fits. Maggie smiled herself.

It didn’t fit. She wasn’t a Crystal. she was a Margaret. But as she walked away with the most seductive swagger she’d ever managed, she couldn’t help wondering if he liked what he saw. Then the traitorous thought scared her and she hurried down the path to her car. What was she doing? She was a married woman. She couldn’t be thinking about another man.

It wasn’t until she slipped her key into her car door that she realized she wasn’t married anymore. She wasn’t a wife. She was a widow. And she had two choices. She could go back to San Diego and forget all about Serena Hollingsworth or she could go to the spa and find some answers. There was really only one choice.

He should have gone home, Nick decided as he watched Lisa brush out Mary Bea’s blond curls in preparation for an upcoming birthday party.

Lisa knelt on the living room floor behind Mary Bea, her hands swift yet gentle as she unsnarled each tangle without drawing one word of complaint from Mary Bea.

Mary Bea had been quiet all morning, more subdued than Nick was used to seeing her, but maybe she was exhausted from all the crying the night before. Whatever the reason, it was obvious she’d begun to accept Lisa as a babysitter, which meant he really didn’t need to stay.

It wasn’t like he didn’t have anything to do. He had orders stacking up from the baby fair, not to mention the ones he’d taken in his store the past week. And while his two store clerks could work the front desk and sell the furniture they had in stock, he was the only one who could actually make the pieces to be sold. Which meant he should be working instead of standing in the doorway of Maggie’s living room watching his ex-wife brush his niece’s hair.

But there was something in Lisa’s sure strokes, in the picture they made together that captivated him. Today, she looked like the woman he remembered. Gone was the starchy white shirt, the sterile business suit, all the armor of her current life as a businesswoman. Today, dressed in soft, worn blue jeans and a light blue sleeveless knit top, she looked like a woman, feminine, alluring, motherly.

He could almost imagine this was their home, their daughter, their life. If only … no, that was a path he wouldn’t go down. Lisa was leaving tomorrow, going back to L.A.” to her life, to her future husband. His stomach twisted in a jealous knot. He couldn’t stand to think of someone else holding her, kissing her, touching her. What the hell was wrong with him? It had been eight years, and he still thought of her as belonging to him.

Lisa looked up and caught him staring. “Nick,” she said, her voice somewhat flustered. “You should have said something. I didn’t realize you were standing there.”

“I didn’t want to interrupt such an important task.”

“Aunt Lisa says I look beautiful,” Mary Bea said with a smile. “Do you think I’m beautiful?”

“The prettiest girl in town.”

“Prettier than Aunt Lisa?” Mary Bea quizzed, determined to spell out exactly where she ranked in the list.

“You’re definitely the prettiest five-year-old girl.”

Mary Bea tilted her head to one side as she considered his answer.

“That’s okay, I guess.”

“Isn’t she ready yet?” Dylan ran into the living room with his baseball bat in one hand and his mitt in the other. “I’m going to be late for practice.”

“You have to drop me off at the movies first,” Roxy said, following close behind her brother. “I don’t want to look for my friends in the dark.”

“Then I’ll be even later,” Dylan moaned. “Girls are such a pain.”

“You’re right about that,” Nick said, commiserating with his young nephew.

Lisa stood up. “Why don’t we take two cars? I’ll drop off Roxy and

Mary Bea, and you can take Dylan to baseball practice. “It was a good plan. Then they wouldn’t have to sit in the same car together. In fact, they might be able to get through most of the day without seeing each other.

“Fine,” he said. “Let’s go.”

“I’ll just get my purse.” As Lisa reached for her purse on the coffee table, the dog came bounding into the room, knocking her off balance.

The purse fell from her hand, landing open on the carpet, the contents spilling out.

Nick squatted down to help her gather her wallet and lipstick and keys—and the small white box that had somehow found its way into her purse.

“What’s this?” Nick asked.

She tried to grab the box, but he lifted the lid before she could stop him. His jaw dropped at the sight of the charm bracelet. The pulse in the base of his neck beat frantically as the blood drained out of his face.

“Oh, God,” he muttered as he ran the gold chain between his fingers.

“Where did you—?”

“My mother.”

“Silvia. That’s what she wanted. The magic bracelet. I should have guessed.”

“You have a magic bracelet?” Dylan asked. “That’s cool. What does it do?”

“It doesn’t do anything, and it’s not magic,” Lisa said. “I can’t believe you kept it all these years.” She looked into his eyes, searching for an explanation.

“It was in storage.”

“Storage?” she echoed. “What storage?”

He set the bracelet back in the box and handed it to her. Then he got to his feet. “We’d better get a move on. Why don’t you kids get in the car?”

“Nick?” she asked, as the kids left the room.

“What?”

“I thought you gave our stuff away.”

He shrugged as he dug his hands into his pockets. “I didn’t.”

She pushed the box and other items into her purse and stood up. “Why not? ”

“Does it matter? You told me to put all the pieces of our life into a garbage bag and throw it in the dump. Why do you care if I still have some of our things?”

“What else do you have?”

“Do you really want to know? Because I can show you. I can take you to our house, Lisa.” He saw the blood drain from her face. “What’s the matter? Afraid of ghosts?”

“We have to go. The kids are waiting.”

“Of course you have to leave. Just once I’d like you to stay and fight to the bitter end.”

“I know how to fight, Nick. I fought until the horrible, horrible end. Remember? But I’ve moved on with my life. I’m not stuck in the past like you.” She turned on her heel and walked through the door and down the drive to her car, where Mary Bea and Roxy were waiting.

Nick watched her slide into the front seat and turn the key in the ignition. Instead of the motor catching life, nothing happened. Lisa tried again. Another click.

“Come on, Uncle Nick, we’re going to be late,” Dylan called out from the front seat of Nick’s jeep.

“Hang on a second.” He walked over to Lisa’s car, watching as she struggled valiantly to get it to start.

“I don’t understand. I just had the car tuned up,” she muttered. “It’s supposed to be in perfect condition.”

“Might have a dead battery.”

“Do you want to jump me?”

He couldn’t help but smile. “You bet.”

“The car I mean,” she said crossly.

“Of course. I don’t have a jump. Come on, we’ll take the kids in my car and figure out what to do with yours later.”

“It has to start.” She tried again, with no luck.

“Maybe you should use the magic bracelet,” Mary Bea suggested.

“If it were magic, my car would start,” Lisa said.

“Guess you’ll have to ride with me,” Nick said, suddenly realizing how much he wanted her to come with him. He wanted a chance to show her what she’d turned her back on. Maybe it was ego, but dammit, he couldn’t stand the way she looked at him, as if he was stuck in some sort of a time warp. “After we drop off the kids, we can go by the house,” he said as she stepped out of her car.

“I have no intention of going to your house.”

He grinned. “Too bad. I’m the one who’s driving.”

Chapter 6

“Thanks for giving me a ride,” Beverly said as she slipped into the front seat of Raymond’s silver Lexus. She set her purse on the floor and crossed her long, slender legs, then flashed him a brilliant smile.

“You’re a peach.”

He wasn’t a peach. He was an idiot. Not only was he giving his competition a ride to a party hosted by the account they both wanted but the competition was Beverly, of all people. Beverly, who sent his blood pressure skyrocketing thirty points every time she opened her mouth. Beverly, who wore a sophisticated, sexy scent reminiscent of Chanel that completely swamped his senses. He had always found perfume on a beautiful woman to be erotic, sexual. But this woman was Beverly, not Elisabeth, and he had no business thinking such thoughts. He turned the key in the ignition and pulled sharply away from the curb.

“I love a man who likes to go fast,” Beverly said with a small laugh.

Raymond suddenly had the sinking feeling that she could see right into his head, into his thoughts. “I thought women liked men who went slow.”

“Depends on what they’re doing.”

“Dammit, Beverly. It’s one o’clock in the afternoon.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know there was a starting time on flirting.”

“I’m not flirting with you. I’m giving you a ride. “”Have it your way.” She sent him a curious look. “What do you think Monty Friedman will say when he sees us together?”

Raymond inwardly groaned. The CEO of Nature Brand would probably be amused, but then he’d deliberately pitted them against each other. Monty wanted to hire not just the best company but the toughest, the most willing to do whatever it took, the one still standing at the end of the fight, however dirty that fight might get.

“Monty’s sister and I went to high school together,” Beverly said idly.

“Catholic school. She was a prig though, very straight. Wouldn’t have dreamed of wearing sexy lingerie under her regulation plaid uniform.”

Great, Beverly had an inside edge. He would have to watch her like a hawk. “I suppose you wore a garter belt?”

“It was red, very sexy. I thought I was so cool.” She sighed. “Don’t you wonder where all the time has gone? Every year, the days, the hours, the minutes—all seem shorter. Sometimes I wish I didn’t have to sleep. I feel like I’m missing something by wasting those hours in oblivion.”

Raymond knew exactly how she felt. His life had become a race against time, against his graying hair, his receding hairline, the rubbery muscles that never seemed to achieve the leanness of his youth no matter how many sit-ups he did.

“I envy Elisabeth,” Beverly continued. “She’s young, beautiful, thin, and, I hate to admit it, she’s even nice. When she lets her guard down, that is. I saw her at the Children’s Hospital Halloween Fair last fall. She was really in her element there, handing out balloons, painting faces.”

“I don’t remember her talking about that,” Raymond said, reminded once again that Elisabeth didn’t always share her life with him. Not that he wanted to be with her every second, but it still bothered him that she’d never mentioned her friend in San Diego. And that bracelet her mother had sent, there was something odd about it. He’d bet his last dollar it wasn’t a wedding present at all. He’d met Silvia Alvarez once and only then because she’d dropped in at the office unexpectedly.

She clearly hadn’t liked him at all. He doubted he’d see her again until the wedding. She and Elisabeth didn’t seem to get along. In fact, sometimes he forgot Elisabeth even had a family; she so rarely mentioned anyone. Maybe he should have asked more questions. In truth, he didn’t really care to know them. He’d had enough of in-laws the first time around.

“I’m surprised you didn’t come to the fair,” Beverly continued.

“Elisabeth designed the flyers and the posters for the event. They were excellent.”

“I’m sure they were. She does first-rate work.”

“That she does.”

Silence fell between them as Raymond stopped the car at a stoplight.

Two teenagers walked slowly across the street. Their hair was sprayed various shades of red and green. The boy’s pants were dragging down to his knees, and the girl wore all black clothing, save for a pair of bright red boots. They were smoking cigarettes and looking as if they thought they were the coolest pair in the world.

Raymond glanced over at Beverly. She looked at him and smiled. They both started to laugh.

“Did we ever look that bad?” she asked.

“I wore enough grease in my hair to fry bacon,” Raymond confessed. “And I smoked. Drove like a maniac. I don’t know why, except that it was 1962. I was rebelling—against what I have no idea,” Raymond replied as the light changed.

“I wore those low-riding hip huggers with the big bell bottoms, and I parted my hair down the middle and wore it straight so that it covered my eyes.”

“Were your parents okay with it?”

“Are you kidding? I went to Catholic school, remember? I gave my father gray hair. He was very straight, very religious. He even made me go to Mass every Sunday. When I got old enough to go by myself, I would hide my regular clothes in the bushes in the alley behind our house. As soon as I kissed my parents goodbye, I changed and went to Bob’s Big Boy to hang out. I always wanted to be one of those waitresses at the drive-in. Ours wore roller skates. “He laughed, remembering. “It was a lifetime ago, wasn’t it?”

“They were the good old days, I guess.”

“Not all so good,” he said with a sigh.

“You went to Vietnam, didn’t you?”

“I was drafted.”

“How long were you there?”

“Seven months,” he said in a clipped voice. “It was worse than any hell I could have imagined. I got lucky. I broke my leg in three places during an exercise, and they shipped me back to the States.”

Beverly’s voice filled with compassion. “You call that lucky?”

“Compared to the alternative, yes.”

“My brother still wakes up with nightmares from his tour.”

“Me, too.” Raymond could have cut out his tongue for uttering those damning words. He didn’t know why he’d told her that. He’d never told anyone. Fortunately the nightmares came infrequently enough now that he didn’t anticipate sharing them with Elisabeth. At least he hoped he wouldn’t have to. He was too old to have nightmares, to need comfort.

He was a man, goddammit.

“How come we never talked like this before—when I worked for you?”

Beverly asked.

“You were too busy trying to climb my ladder.”

“And you kept pushing Jimmy and Larry and every other young male hotshot ahead of me on that ladder.”

“Are you claiming sexual discrimination?”

“I could have.” |

“I don’t have a problem with women reaching the top. Elisabeth has never had any complaints.”

“It must have been me then.”

“You push too hard, Beverly.”

“It’s the only way I know how to get what I want. It’s certainly never just come to me,” she said with a trace of bitterness. “I wasn’t always like this, you know. Once, I made the mistake of believing …”

Her voice drifted away as she turned to look out the window.

“What were you going to say?” he prodded.

“Nothing you’d be interested in.”

But he was suddenly very interested in why her eyes were so bright, why she looked vulnerable instead of assured.

“Patience is a virtue,” he said, returning to their original topic.

“Patience be damned. You didn’t have to wait to get ahead. I’ve read about some of your past exploits in Advertising Age, how you bailed out on your first employer, stealing half the accounts.”

“I didn’t steal them. They came on their own, and Madison went bankrupt.”

“Whose fault was that?”

His gut tightened. “You know I could drop you off on this street corner and have Monty all to myself this afternoon.”

Beverly shook her head. “No can do, Raymond. I told Monty you were giving me a ride, just in case you found a cliff to throw me over along the way.”

“What did he say?”

“He said if we weren’t both so stubborn and pigheaded, we’d probably make a good team.”

“Yeah, what does he know?” Raymond growled as he turned off the street and into the long driveway that led up to Monty’s Bel Air home.

“You and I could never work together, not in a million years.”

“I agree with you.”

“You do?” He stopped the car behind a gold Mercedes. “That’s a first.”

“But I think we could do other things really well together, if you didn’t have such a youth complex. If you weren’t looking to find young Raymond in young Elisabeth.”

His jaw dropped at her bluntness. “Jesus, Beverly, do you ever think before you open your mouth?”

She shrugged. “It wastes too much time.” She picked up her purse and opened the door. “Aren’t you coming?” she asked when he made no move to get out.

“In a minute.”

“Don’t want to be seen with me? Afraid I’ll ruin your playboy image?”

“Beverly?”

“What?”

“Find another ride home.”

“Sure, why not. Maybe I can find a young, hard body, with a washboard stomach and bulging pecs. After all, if you can do it, why can’t I?”

He shook his head in bemusement. “I’d wish you good luck, but I don’t think you’re the one who will need it.”

“Raymond, as far as the account goes…” She paused, then grinned.

“May the best woman win.”

Raymond couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face. She was a piece of work, but he was determined to win her—make that beat her.

Maggie listened to the phone ring, two, three, four times, then the machine picked up. Darn, they weren’t there. Then she remembered Mary Bea’s birthday party, Dylan’s practice, Roxy’s movie date. Lisa was no doubt busy chauffeuring them around town. Maggie felt another surge of guilt at leaving the kids alone with a woman they barely knew. Lisa hadn’t been around kids in ages. She was probably ready to tear her hair out. Maggie smiled at that thought.

As the tape beeped, she left her message. “Hi, it’s Mom. I just wanted to see how you were doing. I hope you’re not giving Lisa a hard time. Anyway, I’ll call you later. I love you all. Bye.”

As she stepped out of the phone booth, she debated whether she shouldn’t just go home. The traffic along Sycamore Boulevard whizzed by, and the cars were all nice—Mercedeses, Lexuses, BMWs, even a Porsche. She looked at her serviceable Ford Taurus station wagon and sighed. You could take the woman out of the suburb, but it was tough

to take the suburb out of the woman. When she returned to her car, she checked the map on the seat beside her and realized Doran was just a few blocks away. She was so close to the spa, she might as well check it out.

A few minutes later, she saw the sparkling white nude statues that Jeremy had described, and she knew she was in the right place. She turned into the driveway and pulled her car into a vacant spot in the lot. Once again the cars spoke of wealth, as did the elegant lines of the spa, which looked more like a stately mansion than a place to get sweaty and hit tennis balls.

After fighting back another urge to flea, Maggie stepped out of the car and marched up to the front door of the spa. She still felt out of place, but she was determined not to show it. Meeting Serena Hollingsworth was worth a little discomfort. She needed answers, and there was only one woman who could provide them.

The lobby of the spa was air-conditioned to a lovely state of cool.

There were impressionistic paintings on the wall, glass tables and puffy white sofas resting on thick, luxurious white carpet. At one end of the room was a large half-moon reception desk.

As Maggie approached the desk, a very muscular young man stood up. He was dressed in a short-sleeve white polo shirt and matching white pants. “May I help you?” he asked.

Hans, as indicated by his name tag, glanced quickly down Maggie’s body, obviously assessing her financial status as well as her physical attributes.

“I—I—” Now that she was here, Maggie wasn’t quite sure how to proceed.

“Don’t be shy,” he said with a knowing smile. “We all have to start somewhere.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’ve probably gotten busy with work and social events, let a few pounds slip on during the holidays, neglected your daily facial routine and morning jog, and now you’re feeling like it’s time to get rid of that old, dead skin and get ready for bikini season? Am I right?

“”Exactly right,” Maggie said, knowing full well she’d never put on a bikini in this lifetime.

“I’m always right,” he said with a proud smile. “We have several different plans, and I’m sure we can find one that will suit you.”

“Actually, I’m only in town for a few days. I’m not sure how long I’ll be staying.”

“No problem. We have a one-day special that lets you try out all of our facilities. In fact, we’ll assign you a personal trainer to take you through our weight room and assist you with the cardio respiratory machines.”

“The what?”

“Stairmaster and Treadmill.”

“Oh, of course.”

“After your workout, you can take a sauna, Jacuzzi, swim in the pool, and end the day with a rubdown, massage, facial and manicure pedicure session. In fact, I could probably get you into the salon if you’d also like a trim.”

Maggie patted down her hair selfconsciously. “You think I need a trim?”

“To go with the new you, absolutely.”

“The new me.” She liked the sound of that. “You can really make me over in one day?”

“We can get you off to a good start. I guarantee you’ll feel like a new woman by the time you leave here today. In fact, you may not ever want to leave.”

Maggie considered his statement. She needed to look for Serena, and she was bound to find her somewhere in the spa, according to Jeremy. Why not treat herself at the same time? “How much for the one-day makeover special?”

“Two hundred and fifty dollars.”

Two hundred and fifty dollars? That was a week’s groceries and a pair of tennis shoes for Dylan. How could she possibly spend so much on herself? She had three children growing out of their clothes and their shoes and their bikes. But it had been a long time since she’d spent anything on herself. And if it would make her feel like a new person, how could she say no? If it helped her retrieve her sanity, it would be money well spent.